


Destination Unknown

by facethefall



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethefall/pseuds/facethefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is such a bad idea, but can I?  I just—I really want to,” Chris says, his eyes locked with Darren’s.</p><p>“Yes, yes, yes,” Darren says.  He’s not completely sure what he’s agreeing to, only that he wants whatever Chris is willing to give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destination Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t a story with a happy ending, just as a fair warning. I know some people don’t do angsty endings, so I wanted to make that clear

They’re all cramped into a tiny two bedroom apartment, Lea’s place that she loves because of the history and age of the building, even though she could afford an apartment twice the size.  She has white twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the windows and silver tinsel tucked into random corners of the room.  The noise from the street level rises up to the sixth floor, noise makers and handheld fireworks and breaking glass and singing.  Lea’s invited everyone from the cast to come to New York, to really celebrate the new year.  Darren’s already in town for the Broadway show he’s doing (and holy fuck, he still can’t wrap his mind around that), but he sees a bunch of his cast mates here, too.   
  
The music is loud and the alcohol is flowing, and Darren’s not sure what time it is, but then Lea’s pulling at his side and telling him, “Come on, Darren!  Get your hat and coat on,” words slightly slurred from the tequila with champagne chasers they’ve been doing for the past few hours.  Darren finds his coat, bits of tinsel stuffed in the pockets, when Chris comes over and smiles big and bright.  He purses his lips together while he digs something out of his pocket.  It turns out to be novelty sunglasses, the rims of the plastic glittery glasses reading  _2012_.  Chris opens them up and carefully places them on Darren’s face, pushing them up his nose with his index finger.  
  
“Only you could pull those off and not look like a complete idiot,” Chris says and Darren takes it as a compliment.  
  
“So where are we headed?” Darren asks, taking off the glasses and tucking them into his pocket.  
  
“I think I heard Lea mention something about Central Park?” Chris murmurs and suddenly they’re pressed together, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, while everyone tries to exit the apartment at the same time.  They squeeze out of the door and then down the tiny hallway and into the elevator, still pressed together.  
  
“Okay, guys.  Central Park!  It’s like, mini-Times Square.  So nobody get lost!  And I hope you all brought your flask, because I know I did!” Lea shouts as she pulls out the shiny metal flask and takes a sip while everyone cheers.  She had given them out as party favors with  _GLEE 2011_  etched across the front, pushing them into people‘s hands when they arrived at her apartment.  The elevator dings with their arrival at the ground floor and everyone spills out when the door opens.  The group breaks apart only slightly and Darren suddenly feels colder without Chris pressed up against his side.  
  
They make their way outside, Lea leading the way, and Darren knows Central Park is only a few blocks down and over from Lea’s apartment.  He pulls his coat tighter around his middle and puffs a breath of fog out of his mouth.  He sees Chris a few paces ahead, chatting loudly with Amber, his cheeks and the tips of his ears red from the cold.  Darren picks up his pace and quickly falls into step next to Chris.  
  
“So, what’s in your flask?” Darren asks, knocking their elbows together.  
  
“Tequila and a couple of squeezes from a plastic lemon I found in Lea’s fridge. It‘s delightfully trashy,” Chris says, his eyes bright with laughter.  He pulls the flask out of his jacket pocket, twists the cap off, and wets his lips before taking a long sip.  Darren watches Chris swallow the liquid, watches his throat flex and his Adam’s apple bob.  He pulls the flask away, his lips red and shiny, and coughs softly before offering the flask to Darren.  
  
“No, thanks.  I’ve got orange juice and champagne in mine, so it should actually taste good,” Darren replies.  
  
Chris laughs and the sound carries over everything.  “You made a mimosa in your flask and I made a redneck margarita.  Cheers!”  Darren pulls his flask out of his pocket and taps it to Chris’s, making a soft  _clink_.  Darren uncaps it and take a long sip, the bubbles from the champagne making him hiccup once.  
  
They’re stumbling along the sidewalk, loud and boisterous and invincible because it’s New Years Eve in New York City and there are thousands of people on the street tonight.  Their winter hats are pulled down tight around their heads and no one notices them as anything other than a group of people having the night of their lives.  
  
They arrive at Central Park and break off into small groups.  Darren’s flask is half empty and he knows he should be cold.  It’s below freezing outside, but the alcohol is keeping his body warm and his vision blurry.  All around him he hears laughter and shouting and singing and he screams along just because he can.  
  
Despite Lea’s words, it’s amazing how easily the group breaks up.  Darren turns around to shout something to Dianna, but she’s nowhere to be found.  He looks around for someone he recognizes and sees Chris, backed up against a large rock with his knee bent and foot pressed against it.  He’s staring up at the sky even though there’s too much light and pollution to see the stars.  
  
The rock is out of the way and Darren makes his way over and falls back next to Chris.  
  
“Whatcha thinking’ about?” Darren asks, eyes drifting from the sky to Chris’s face.  
  
“Mmmmm,” Chris says, but he must realize that’s not an answer because he continues, “just thinking about how I’ve never had a kiss on New Years Eve.”  
  
Darren’s mouth drops open and he can’t believe how unfair that is.  How this awesome guy, this completely perfect person who’s the smartest person Darren knows, hasn’t been kissed on New Years Eve.  It’s such an injustice and he wants to tell Chris that, let him know that every other guy who’s had the chance to kiss him and hasn’t is an idiot.  
  
“Maybe next year,” Chris muses, his voice light when he stretches his neck and looks longingly at Darren.  
  
And suddenly he has Chris pressed up against the moss covered rock, hands fisting the lapels on Chris’s jacket, pushing them off to the side of the rock that‘s covered in darkness.  He vaguely hears the countdown for the new year in the background, 7 6 5 4, before he presses his lips to Chris.  Chris opens his mouth automatically and Darren slides his tongue inside, tasting all alcohol and no fake lemon.  
  
Darren lets out a loud groan that can’t be heard to anyone but Chris, the partying around them drowning out any sound.  They’ve kissed before, on screen and as different people, and it was nothing like this.  This is all tongues and desperation and bad decisions.  
  
They break apart for only a second when Chris grabs at Darren and switches their positions, Darren’s back, shoulders, elbows suddenly pressed up against the hard rock.  
  
“This is such a bad idea, but can I?  I just—I really want to,” Chris says, his eyes locked with Darren’s.  
  
“Yes, yes, yes,” Darren says.  He’s not completely sure what he’s agreeing to, only that he wants whatever Chris is willing to give him.  
  
Chris drops to his knees and suddenly there’s a hand tugging at the button and zipper on his jeans.  There are hundreds of people around them, but no one is  _right there_.  They’ve carved out their own little piece of Central Park, tucked off in the darkness and shadows where no one can see them.  
  
“Yes, yes, yes,” Darren repeats when Chris tugs Darren’s clothing down.  His dick bounces out and hits the cold air, making Darren hiss.  But soon enough there is a fucking prefect hot wet mouth surrounding him and his head falls back against the rock.  Darren’s hands automatically find Chris’s hair, his fingers threading through and getting caught down at the roots.  Chris hums and Darren’s knees buckle.  Chris uses his free hand to grab Darren by the waist and push him against the rock.  
  
“Darren, is this okay?” Chris asks when he pulls off for a second.  He’s still jerking Darren, though, hard and fast and exactly how Darren likes it.  Chris’s eyes are wide and he lets his tongue run up and down the slit at the top of Darren’s dick.  
  
“Fuck, yes, Chris.  Of course it’s okay, it’s amazing,” Darren babbles.  Chris smirks happily before opening his mouth and continuing to suck.  
  
Darren may still be a little drunk, but he’s sober enough to know that nothing has ever felt this good before.  He’s had a lot of sex before, and exclusively with girls, but nothing can compare to this.  Chris is working his mouth around Darren’s dick, his tongue hard and then soft in all the right spots.  He flicks his tongue around the head and does a particularly devastating stroke with his hand before pushing his mouth back down around Darren’s cock and that is it.  Darren maybe gets out a strangled ‘I’m coming’, but he can’t be sure, before he empties himself into Chris’s mouth.  Darren’s hands fall out of Chris’s hair as his breathing tries to return to normal.  
  
Chris pulls off slowly and leans back on his heels, stares up at Darren through his eyelashes.  He opens his mouth to say something, but Darren moves fast and scrapes his back against the rock, knocking Chris back and off his feet.  Chris lands softly on the cold ground.  
  
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Darren mumbles while tucking himself back into his pants and pulling up his zipper.  Chris’s eyes are a little glassy from the tequila, but Darren can clearly see the hurt there.  
  
“Darren,” Chris starts, planting his hands on the ground before pushing himself up and to his feet.  Darren’s scrambling now, looking around him for someone in the cast to bring him back to Lea’s.  He can’t be here, not with Chris looking perfect and broken.  
  
“Dianna’s got a place in Brooklyn, I’ll stay with her,” Chris says, his voice soft, hands fisting into his jacket pockets.  Darren knows it’s not the perfect solution, but they have another week off before they have to be back to LA and back to work, and he needs distance from Chris.  Right now.  
  
“Good luck tomorrow,” Chris says before turning around and making his way back to the crowd.  Darren watches him go, but quickly loses sight of him as the crowd of people swallows him whole.  
  
//  
  
Things are awkward on set, but not unbearable.  Darren is flying back and forth between LA for Glee and New York for Broadway.  He’s given minimal screen time on the TV show, and so Kurt and Blaine moments are few and mostly in the background.  He gets easily annoyed with his cast members ( _Chris’s perfect smile and Chris’s perfect laugh and Chris’s perfect mouth_ ) but blames it on the fact that he’s not sleeping except for quick naps while he’s on an airplane.  Lea sympathizes with him because she filmed Glee and a movie in New York the year before.  
  
He tries not to think about it.  And he mostly does a decent job.  He has to memorize lines and choreography to learn and he really doesn’t have the time to think about Chris’s mouth around his dick.  Except for the part where it’s all he can think about.  
  
He’s talked himself into believing that it was completely a fluke, how good it had felt.  What happened with Chris was a one time occurrence, a mistake caused by tequila and New York City.  
  
He believes it, he really does, but his heart flutters just a little bit when Chris leans over in between takes in the choir room and whispers, “You don’t have to ignore me.  I don’t hate you.”  
  
“I’d hate me,” Darren replies honestly.  He already kind of does.  
  
“We were drunk, it’s okay.  No big deal,” Chris whispers, their thighs pressed together in the hard plastic seats.  “Just stop ignoring me.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Darren chokes out.  Chris offers him a small smile and when he grabs Darren’s knee in a way that’s simply friendly and reassuring, Darren feels it down into his bones.  
  
//  
  
Darren had found her at a bar three blocks from his apartment, the first chance he got when he got back to Los Angeles full time.  He doesn’t know if she recognizes him or not, but he doesn’t really care.  He only had to finish off his drink, quirk an eyebrow and mouth ‘want to go back to my place?’ before she was grabbing her coat and walking to the door.  
  
Now he’s flat on his back in his bedroom, the light blue sheets cool against his skin, with a very talented mouth working over his dick.  He didn’t catch her name, but that doesn’t matter. He needs to prove this to himself, to prove that whatever he felt with Chris was a mistake.  That he still likes girls, only girls.  For all that he tells the media that it’s about the  _person_ , not the  _gender_ , he had never meant it about himself.  
  
Her hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his dick, her mouth covering the rest.  Her head bobs up and down and Darren finds her long blonde hair that’s falling against his thighs more of an annoyance than a turn-on.  Her breasts graze his legs every now and then and he hates it.  
  
The whole thing doesn’t make sense.  Darren loves oral sex.  He loves long manicured nails digging into his thighs, lipstick stains against his lower stomach, mascara smudges from deep throating.  But these things that had worked like a charm in the past to get him off are doing absolutely nothing now.  
  
“Mmmm, you like that, baby?” she coos at him and Darren has to bite his lip to stop himself from being rude.  He nods his head and lifts his hips slightly, rubbing his dick against her lips.  He can feel her smile before she opens her mouth and presses her tongue flat against the underside of his cock.  
  
He knows he’s going to have to come soon.  The last time he checked his bedside alarm clock was fifteen minutes ago and he’s no closer now than he was then.  Darren closes his eyes and is immediately transported back to Central Park, freezing air and a hard rock against his back.  He remembers how fucking perfect Chris’s mouth had felt, how his fingers were ice cold in Chris’s hair, but how warm Chris’s mouth was.  
  
His starts lifting his hips faster, his orgasm approaching as he thinks about how Chris had looked on his knees, mouth stretched around his dick and the tiny bit of spit that clung to his mouth when he pulled off to ask,  _“Darren, is this okay?_ ”  
  
He turns his head into the pillow to stop himself from yelling Chris’s name as he spills into the girl’s mouth.  She hums happily and waits a few seconds before sliding her mouth off of Darren’s dick and whispering, “that was fun, we should do it again sometime.”  Darren doesn’t say anything back, but watches her as she grabs his phone from his night stand to enter her phone number.  She places the phone down before turning back to Darren and telling him, “call me” before grabbing her shoes and slipping out of the bedroom.  Darren faintly hears his front door shut.  
  
He rolls over to grab his phone and delete her number.  He scrolls through until he finds  _Crystal ;-)_  His finger goes to delete her number when he notices the contact that’s right above her name.  _Chris Colfer_  because Chris had insisted, ‘use my full name, Darren, it’s the professional thing to do.’  
  
“Fuck,” Darren breathes out before shutting off his phone completely and tossing it to the foot of his bed.  His alarm is set for 5:00 am and he needs to get at least a few hours of sleep before he’s expected to be on the Glee set tomorrow.  
  
//  
  
Darren’s not sure he knows the reason behind the party Naya’s throwing tonight.  She had told everyone that day on set, “party tonight.  My place.  Cast only.  Bring yourselves and a bottle of booze.”  
  
Darren shows up with a bottle of stupidly expensive wine that he got as a Christmas present from his agent.  He rings Naya’s doorbell, fiddling with the shiny red and green string that’s still attached to the neck of the bottle.  
  
“Hey!” Kevin calls out as he opens the door, speech already a little slurred.  “Naya’s doing shots or something and I heard the door,” he explains. Kevin opens the door a little wider to let Darren inside.  “Booze goes upstairs in the kitchen, Naya’s got a make shift bar going on.”  
  
Darren shuts the door behind him and makes he way up the stairs, passing the living room where there’s loud music and what looks like Lea giving Cory a wobbly lap dance.  
  
He finds the kitchen, large with lots of shiny metal appliances and sets the bottle of wine down.  He’s debating between opening the wine or the espresso flavored vodka that he knows Mark brought when he catches Chris out of the corner of his eye.  There seems to be an intense game of Win, Lose or Draw going on at the kitchen table.  Darren looks over to see Chris laughing; head thrown back, eyes closed, and his long pale neck stretched back.  Darren decides on the vodka and pours himself a double.  
  
He drinks the whole thing in one go, taking it more like a shot than an actual drink, when Naya comes up next to him, arm thrown around his shoulders.  
  
“Hey!  Thanks for coming!” she says over enthusiastically.  Darren didn’t think he was late, but everyone is already here and much drunker than he is.  
  
“Here, have a sip!  It’s so good,” Naya tells him, pulling out a bottle full of gold liquor form behind her back.  Darren takes the bottle from her and takes a long sip, the alcohol burning all the way down.  He pulls the bottle away from his lips and almost hands it back to Naya before he decides better and takes another sip, longer than the one before.  
  
Naya laughs loud and real.  “That’s what I’m talking about!” she yells and the entire kitchen table looks over at them, Chris included.  He stares right at Darren and Darren thinks that maybe he’s looking right into his soul.  
  
The alcohol hits him quickly and before he can stop himself he’s shouting out, “Hey, Chris!  Come over here for a minute!”  He turns around to make his way to Naya’s guest bedroom, smiling when he hears footsteps catching up to him.  
  
They find the room, closing the door behind them.  Darren has Chris backed up against the door in no time, crowding into his personal space.  Chris lets his eyes flutter shut.  
  
“Darren,” Chris says as a warning.  But Darren can’t stop thinking about how fucking beautiful Chris looks right now.  How much he wants to kiss him.  So he does.  
  
Darren kisses him with everything he has, with everything he’s been feeling since that freezing New York night.  He’s kissing and kissing, lips and tongue and teeth, and then there’s the perfect moment when Chris starts kissing back.  
  
Darren needs to feel Chris,  _needs it_ , so he quickly un tucks Chris’s shirt and jams his hands up and underneath, his hands feeling the perfect hard muscles of Chris’s back.  
  
Chris lets out a shaky moan and that just makes Darren want this that much more.  He grips Chris’s skin, his fingers digging into his flesh.  
  
“Darren, stop,” Chris says, his voice sounding completely insincere.  
  
“Don’t wanna,” Darren mumbles, making his way from Chris’s mouth down to his neck.  
  
“No, we have to talk about this,” his voice a little more firm this time.  
  
“Talking’s stupid,” Darren answers dumbly, mouth still attached to Chris’s neck.  
  
“Darren.  Stop,” and this time it catches Darren’s attention.  He pulls back, his lips leaving Chris’s neck, but not before noticing the red marks he left there.  
  
“We can’t do this again,” Chris tells him.  
  
“Please,” is all Darren can say.  He goes back in for Chris’s neck, but Chris shoves him away.  
  
“Why can’t you just admit what you’re feeling!” Chris shouts, switching their positions and backing Darren up against a wall, both of Darren‘s wrists in his hands.  Their height difference usually isn’t that pronounced, but Chris is standing straight up and Darren’s slumped down against the wall.  Darren feels Chris’s warm breath against his face and his senses are filled with Central Park and New Years Eve and he finally just snaps.  
  
“I don’t know what I’m feeling!” Darren answers, his voice loud but the music from the other room drowning him out.  “I’ve never felt this way before, not about another guy.  I’m more than a little fucking confused, Chris.  This is all brand new.  So why don‘t you cut me a little slack, okay?”  His brain is fuzzy from the alcohol and from the anger at Chris not understanding.  He needs Chris to understand.  
  
“Yeah, I looked at Cory and Mark and Chord and thought about them doing what you did to me,” Darren hears an angry growl escape Chris’s throat and his grip tightens on Darren‘s wrists, “and nothing.  They did nothing for me.  Fuck, Chris.  It’s—it’s only you,” he finishes as Chris bites down on his neck.  
  
“You’re all I can think about,” and Darren wishes that alcohol didn’t eliminate the filter from his brain to his mouth.  But he’s already started talking and the way Chris presses their hips together makes him not want to stop.  “I can’t even get off anymore unless I’m thinking about you, do you know that?”  
  
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Chris is mumbling, words getting caught against Darren’s neck.  Darren can feel Chris shaking, can hear the high pitched moans leaving his mouth, and Darren wouldn’t be able to shut up at this point even if he wanted to.  He yanks his right hand out of Chris’s grasp and quickly puts it on the front of Chris’s jeans, his dick feeling huge in Darren’s hand.  
  
“I think about it all the time.  About your lips and your mouth, fuck.  Your mouth is perfect,” Darren says as he unbuttons Chris’s jeans and pulls down his zipper, not stopping until Chris’s pants and underwear are around his thighs and Darren can feel the warm skin of Chris’s dick in his hand.  He’s never felt someone else’s before and it reminds him of is own, although the angle is different from when he has his own dick in his hand.  He gives an experimental tug and Chris groans.  
  
“And I hate myself for ignoring you on set all the time, but fuck.  I can’t stop thinking about it, Chris.  And it freaks me the fuck out,” Darren tells him, too much honesty slipping out.  His hand has picked up the pace on Chris’s cock and Chris is moving his hips along with Darren’s hands.  
  
“It freaks me out how much I want this, about how much I want another guy.  How much I want you,” Darren says before dropping to his knees.  Chris’s cock is right in front of his face, curving a little up towards his belly and damp at the tip.  Darren’s hand is still around the base and he can feel Chris canting his hips just a little.  
  
“Darren, no, don’t.  Not unless you want to,” Chris tells him.  
  
“I definitely want to,” Darren says before sinking his mouth onto Chris’s dick.  His jaw opens wider than he’s used to and it’s definitely a little uncomfortable.  But he can’t help but love how full his mouth feels, how soft but hard Chris feels in his mouth.  He pulls up slightly and curiously tongues underneath the head.  
  
“ _Darren_ ,” Chris groans and Darren can see his knees are shaking lightly.  Darren pushes his mouth further down while still moving his hand up and down where his mouth can’t reach.  He tries to remember everything he likes, tries to remember what Chris did for him that made it so unbelievable.  
  
Darren is startled when Chris slaps a hand against the wall to steady himself, his hips moving just barely into Darren’s mouth.  Darren picks up speed a little and sucks a little harder.  Chris is moaning nonsense above him and Darren chances a glance up through his eyelashes.  Chris’s eyes are screwed shut, a flush is breaking out on his cheeks and his mouth is opened just slightly.  Darren has never seen Chris look better.  
  
“Darren, I’m gonna—I’m about to,” Chris warns and Darren pulls off, continuing to stroke Chris.  He rubs his palm over the head of Chris’s cock on the upstroke a few times and then Chris is coming, all over his stomach and chest.  Darren backs up a little, his head hitting the wall behind him.  He can’t believe how hot that entire experience was, how much he got off on Chris getting off, how much he wants to taste the come that’s on Chris’s skin —  
  
“Darren,” Chris says, his voice completely blissed out.  Darren jerks his head up and his head fills with ‘ _fuck fuck fuck no this is not happening not again fuck fuck fuck_ ’ before he quickly rises to his feet and presses his back against the wall, trying to put as much room between Chris and himself as possible.  
  
“I—I have to go,” Darren stammers.  Chris finally opens his eyes and Darren sees how sad they are.  
  
“Don’t.  Don’t do this again,” Chris begs, his voice soft.  But Darren is already rushing off, leaving out the front door without saying goodbye to anyone and hailing a cab to take him home.  
  
//  
  
It all comes to a head at a late night dance rehearsal a week later.  
  
They’d been practicing for  _hours_ , a huge mash-up for Nationals that they’d been working on for days.  It’s the hardest dance routine Darren’s done on the show yet and he’s so fucking grateful when Zac had called out, “okay, that’s enough for today” at one in the morning.  
  
The cast leaves the dance studio slowly, muscles tight and aching.  It’s chilly outside and Darren’s only wearing sweat pants and a light t-shirt, the sweat on his forehead turning cold when he steps outside.  
  
He calls out his goodbyes to the rest of the cast and slowly makes his way to his car, feet dragging along the ground, protesting the entire way.  
  
“Hey, Darren.  Wait up,” he hears Chris call out as he jogs over.  Darren comes to a halt just a few feet away from the car and drops his gym bag to the ground.  
  
“What’s up?” Darren asks when Chris stops in front of him, looking over Chris’s shoulder and nowhere near his eyes.  
  
“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that’s okay,” Chris starts out and Darren automatically recognizes this as Chris’s ‘public personality’; polite, but guarded, keeping everything tight to his chest.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Darren answers, still not meeting Chris’s eyes.  
  
“I’m done waiting for you, Darren,” Chris tells him honestly.  He’s standing with his arms crossed, his voice tight but professional.  “I thought I could wait it out, wait for you to figure out what you were feeling.  Because it’s pretty obvious to me, but I get how it could be hard for you.  And you were worth it, the waiting.”  Darren feels pinpricks in the tips of his fingers and hears a ringing in his ears.  
  
“But I can’t wait anymore.  You’ve made your decision, whether you realize it or not.  I’m not going to be strung along,” and Darren hates himself for agreeing with everything Chris said.  He knows that Chris doesn’t let just anyone in.  He keeps his feelings closely guarded, he has to, and only the people that mean the most to him are invited in.  Darren had that chance, he had been there, but he lost it.  
  
“We can be friends on set and that’s fine.  But this psychical thing that we had?  Is done.  I’m not going to get hurt anymore over it,” Chris tells him and Darren’s heart aches more than any breakup he’s had in an established relationship with a girl.  He’s not ready for this to be over, not yet, not when there‘s so much more he wants to experience with Chris.  
  
Chris turns around and starts to walk away, his head dropped low and staring at his feet.  Darren feels this pressure in his throat that’s making it impossible to breathe, like there‘s some invisible force preventing him from taking a breath.  Darren swears he feels his heart breaking and he wants to grab Chris by the hand, tug hard, and pull him back.  To tell Chris that he wants this, he doesn’t care about the consequences or what people will whisper about him. That he wants Chris and only Chris, forever and always always always—  
  
—but he doesn’t.  He lets Chris go because Darren’s not ready; not now.  And he probably never will be.


End file.
